MUSED
BellaOnline Literary Review
Ruffles by Christine Catalano

Table of Contents

Poetry


Gray Birds of Morning

Phibby Venable

I close my eyes and hear the gray wings
of morning fluttering the trees
Yes, there is song
There is an unspoken prayer in the pines
that grows vast when the wind lifts it
into the blue pearl sky
There are people as vulnerable as birds
Stick legs holding up the ill
where sickness has settled and whittles
away at strong standings
Invisible wings on bent shoulders
and heads that shrink into the neck
where the faces stare out
in bewilderment and fears
into the world where they were always well
I close my eyes and hear the doves
up early in tuxedos of woe
rocking back and forth in small steps
cooing sorrow even when no one is listening
and I think of olive branches, rainbows,
all the big promises that show off
far more than they can deliver
I am awake, gray birds, and this is the world




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